Je Ne Peux Pas Rester
by A Fire in the Attic
Summary: There are days when Renee wakes up next to Charlie and doesn't want him to even touch her, and the idea of a kiss is enough to make her creep out of bed and into the living room. These days are happening more often than not, now, and she knows he doesn't understand it, doesn't understand why she keeps pulling away. Ace!Renee, pre-series.


**Prompt: **Anonymous asked: you said you'd like a twilight one, so here's an off-the-wall twilight ace prompt: bella's mom is ace, and charlie isn't, and their inability to handle that well as a couple largely led to the divorce.

**Word Count:** 870

**Trigger Warnings:** Self-loathing, self-doubt, ace phobia, divorce. Skip to the bottom for more info.

* * *

Renee loved Charlie.

Loved. Past tense.

There are days when she wakes up next to him and doesn't want him to even touch her, and the idea of a kiss is enough to make her creep out of bed and into the living room. These days are happening more often than not, now, and she knows he doesn't understand it, doesn't understand why she keeps pulling away.

Because Charlie loves Renee. Present tense.

It's 6:05 a.m. Renee can justify leaving for work this early, because she teaches kindergarten, and she always has lesson plans to prepare and craft ideas to look up.

But she dawdles in the kitchen, drinking milk and wondering where it went wrong—where ___she_ went wrong. Why can't she love her husband any more? Why doesn't she want to be with him? Why does the thought of sex make her clamp her hands at the hem of her skirt and cross her legs so tight it cuts off circulation to her toes?

She sets down her nearly empty glass of milk. She won't finish it today, because it's 6:18 a.m. and she doesn't like to leave after 6:20.

She hates Forks and its eternal grey skies, but she doesn't mind the hazmat suit of a raincoat she has to put on, or the rain boots she slips into. They feel thick enough to be armor, and she knows no one will touch her skin this way. That's good, safe.

(She has a pair of heels under her desk at school, because heels used to mean she was up for sex, and she can't wear them here, not now, not while Charlie still loves and wants.)

In the car, she listens to Edith Piaf and whispers lyrics along with her. She took a year of French in high school, but all she remembers is that "travailler" means work, and that Edith's voice is soothing when nothing else works.

It's 6:35 a.m. when she makes it to school, which means Charlie's alarm will go off in five minutes, and he'll wake Bella in 15. They'll both get ready and be out the door by 7:15.

Renee will greet the children at 7:45, and spend a day smiling and being comfortable until 2:30, when the children will leave. She'll linger at the school, tidying the classroom and putting stickers that say "great job!" and "radical!" on the drawings of dinosaurs her students will turn in and giving everyone an "S" in her grade book. S for satisfactory.

(If she could grade herself, she'd write down N for needs improvement in every category. Appropriate Wife Behavior. Sexual Availability. Mothering. Cooking. Feeling.)

At 3:30, she'll have nothing left to do, so she'll pick Bella up from daycare and take her to the park. The two of them will walk around the park while Bella excitedly tells her about her day and asks all the questions she can think of ("Why do zebras have stripes? Why do people steal? Do lions like other cats?"). She'll try to answer as many as she can, and promise to find out the answer if she doesn't know it. She likes this time the best, because when Bella holds her hand it feels safe, like the limited affection she gives is enough.

At 4:30, they'll go home, and Renee will try to cook dinner, settling on something simple, like Tuna Helper and a salad. Charlie will come home at 5:00, and things will get quiet.

At 5:30, they eat together, Bella chattering and both of them raptly listening. Renee won't look any where but at her plate and her daughter, because if she looks across the table, she'll meet Charlie's eyes, and 8:00, when Bella goes to bed, will be so much worse.

She thinks of all of this before the first children arrive, coming back to herself at 7:37 a.m. and realizing dimly that she can't keep doing this, that she can't stay here, where she has her anxiety scheduled to set in every day at 4:47. She just ___can't_.

But can she leave?

Her hands still on her desk, where they've anxiously been arranging and rearranging a stack of paper.

She can bring Bella with her. They could move somewhere sunny, because she's read in Psychology Today that warm weather and sunshine make people happier. Maybe she can fix herself if she gets enough vitamin D, maybe she can be good enough for Charlie again.

Maybe she can earn an S.

She puts on her heels and crosses the room to draw shapes on the chalkboard. They're learning about circles and squares today, for a while, and then they'll practice reading and do some coloring, and she'll leave, but instead of going home, she'll look for a house somewhere it won't ever rain again—

Can she leave?

The chalk snaps in her hand, and behind her the door swings open and the first of the children start to arrive.

She pastes on a smile that feels more real than usual, and greets each of the children and the parents.

* * *

At 12:00, she calls her lawyer.

* * *

**A/N:** Renee in this story does not know the term for what she is, experiences plenty of self-loathing and self-doubt, and believes that she can be "fixed".

I chose to do this because she and Charlie would have gotten divorced before the Internet was widely available, and so she wouldn't have had easy access to information about her sexuality.

Originally posted on tumblr at imagreatbowler, and cross posted from AO3.


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